PS 3537 f 
.P82 H3 1 
1916 j 



ARP SCRinGS 



ARTHUR w: SPOOnGR 





Class /_c) S^'^S*^.. 



COF^O^ICHT DEPOSm 



HARP STRINGS 



BY 



ARTHUR W. SPOONER 

Author of 
Pauline : A Romance of the Civil War. The 
Grandest Work in the World. The New 
Pentecost 







f^ARnetvesjjPCT^ 



BOSTON 

THE GORHAM PRESS 
1916 



Copyright, 1916, by Arthur W. Spooner 



All Rights Reserved 






if 



DEC -2 1916 



The Oorham Pbesb, Boston, U. S. A. 



©CI.A446663 



CONTENTS 

Vibrant Harp Strings 7 

Chasing the Butter-fly 8 

The Grumbler 9 

Nothin' Ter be Thankful Fer 10 

Old Santa and His Flying Machine 12 

The First Snow 13 

An Ode to the Strawberry 14 

Something for Children to do 15 

Ise Mos' a Man Already 16 

He Says It's so 'n He Oughter Know 18 

Good-bye God, I've Bought an Auto 19 

Quit Yer Kickin' 20 

Outside or Ih ? 21 

The Fault of the Comet 22 

The Standpater 24 

La Trinidad 25 

The Doctor's Safe Rule 26 

The Man Behind the Bar 28 

The World and You 29 

The World's A'Bloom 31 

Yesterday 32 

Better Quit Yer Cussin' 33 

Ten Times One are Ten 34 

The Arrow's Wound 35 

Our Three Martyrs- — 

Lincoln 36 

Garfield 36 

McKinley 38 

I'd Like to be Old Santa Claus 39 

Why He Came 40 



CONTENTS 

O Star, Shine Thou on Me ! 41 

A Soliloquy 42 

One Tick at a Time 43 

The Love Tie 44 

The Old Homestead 45 

Just a Word 47 

When Mother Went Away 48 

Our Golden Wedding 49 

The World Again at War 50 

Thou art Not Forgot 51 

The Passing of President Roosevelt 52 

School Bells are Ringing 53 

Thelma 54 

Why Ever Grow Old ? 55 

Old Glory 56 

Easter Morning 57 

In Him Abiding 58 

Stung! 59 

Broken Harp Strings 60 

My Beautiful Baby Boy ! 6u 

Sleeping With the Roses 62 

My Baby ! ^63 

Limitless Ambition 64 

The Glad Game 64 

The Robin That Sang in the Snow 66 



VIBRANT HARP STRINGS 

Strike, O harp, the gladsome strain ! 
Sound no note of fear, or pain ! 
Banish every thought of care! 
Tune man's heart to song, and prayer! 

Cheer the soul with sorrow pressed ! 
Kindle joy in every breast! 
Help love's altar fires to burn, 
Tear-dimmed eyes to upward turn. 

Then thy mission shall be blest: 
Weary hearts be soothed to rest: 
Clouds that hover, disappear, 
And the way seem bright, and clear. 



CHASING THE BUTTER-FLY 

Chasing the butter-fly 
Over the meadow — 
Laughing and shouting 
In innocent glee — 
Life full of sunshine, 
Heart free from shadow, 
This is the vision 
From fond memory. 

Fairy-winged creatures 
Floating in azure, 
Flitting so lightly 
From flower to flower — 
Bright days and happy 
Of life's magic spring-time — 
But butter-fly chasing 
Enchants me no more. 

There lies the meadow. 
Wild flowers are blooming. 
Gaudy-winged butter-flies 
Float all around: — 
But my heart like 
The wildwood with 
Winter snows laden, 
Is bent with its burden 
Of years to the ground. 

Far away childhood! 
Heaven-blest childhood ! 
Like visions of dream-land 
Its pleasures I see. 
8 



Gay romps through the wild-wood, 
Wild flights through the meadow, 
While chasing the butter-fly, 
Happy, and free. 

THE GRUMBLER 

The man that's always grumblin' 
Ain't the man that counts with me. 
For there ain't a meaner critter 
In this whole wide world than he. 

If it's hot, he wants it colder. 
If it's cold he wants it hot. 
When it's dry it should be rainin' — 
When it rains he growls a lot. 

Nothin's right with this old sinner, 
He keeps kickin' like a steer: 
Always fussin', always snarlin' 
All goes wrong when he is near. 

'Spect he'd growl if he was dyin', — 

Somethin' would he out o' gear. 

If he seen his old wife cryin' 

He would say — "Quit! Don't be queer!" 

No, the man that's always grumblin' 
Ain't the one that counts with me. 
An' there ain't a meaner critter 
In this whole wide world than he. 



NOTHIN' TER BE THANKFUL PER 

My grandad says 'at on Thanksgivin' day 

Folks should be good, an' sing, an' pray. 

An' I heard 'im say 'at every man 

Should try an' think as hard as he can 

Of all the blessin's what's come ter him — see? 

An' he 'ist as thankful as he kin be. 

I can't think o' nothin' ter be thankful for. 
Been the tuffest old year I ever have savv^! 
I've had all I've wanted ter eat every day, 
An' good close — them things 'ist come, anyway. 
Can't fer the life of me think what I'd say 
If I should git down an' try ter pray. 

I had a stun bruise las' July, an' 
True's yer live I 'ist thought I'd die. 
I started fer to kick a dog. 
But 'stead o' him I struck a log: 
An' where I hit was a big ole knot. 
My! how it felt I hain't fergot. 

Bill Bunker had a stun bruise too. 

I can't have nothin' branfired new ' 

But some kid, mean as mean kin be 

'1st up an' steals it off of me. 

He said 'at his was higgr'n mine. 

An' hurt wus too, but he didn't whine. 

I said " 'Taint so!" and he said "Tiz!" an' then, 

O dear! But I'll have a bigger one 'nother year. 



lO 



Las' winter I broke thru the ice 
An' nearly drownded — went down twice! 
Then in jumped Tom, ole Timkum's son 
An' caught me by the hair, fer fun ( ?) 
They pulled me out but left Toyn in. 
An' Tom got drownded — what a sin! 
He was a hero, don't yer see, 
Cause he got drownded 'stead o' me, 
'At's 'ist my luck! Why couldn't I drown 
An' be talked about all over town ? 

I had a tooth ake once, las' fall. 
An' went ter see ole Doctor Ball. 
''It's awful bad! A big hole in it! 
Set still" — he said — " 'ist fer a minit." 
I grabbed the chair, an' held my breath. 
An' shut my eyes scared mos' ter death. 
He clutched it, twisted, yanked an said — 
"She's out" ! I thought he'd bust my head. 

I took the tooth ter show ter ma: 
She said — "Yer brave! 'ist like yer pa". 
An' then Jim Bender 'ist fer spite 
HAD TWO TEETH PULLED that very 
night. 

I hain't got nothin' ter be thankful for. 
Been the miserablest year I ever have saw. 
Can't help but wonder what I'd say 
'F I should git down an' try ter pray. 



II 



OLD SANTA AND HIS FLYING MACHINE 

Ise got a long letter from ole Santa Claus! 
He 'dressed it to me, an' I'm sure it's because 
Ise been a good boy mos' all the year thru, 
An' he wants me ter know what he's goin ter do. 

He says 'at his reindeer 've all had whoopin' cough, 
'At Dunder, an' Blitzen shook their antlers clear off: 
'At Comet an' Vixen got caught in the ice 
An' the poor things were all eaten up by the mice. 

"I've been buildin' " he says, "a big flyin' machine, 
'At goes swift as lightnin' — can't never careen: 
It's safe on the sea, an' it's safe on the land: 
My flyin' machine is certainly grand. 

"This new-fangled flyer can sail ter the moon! 
I started one mornin' an' got back at noon. 
I found that the thing is made of green cheese. 
An' will give ye a piece if ye only say 'Please'! 

"I tell ye it's fun to go whiz through the air, 
Fer, quick as a wink ye can be anywhere. 
I can go roun' the world in a minit or two. 
So ye see 'at it won't take me long ter find you. 

"I know where ye live in yer father's big house, 
An' when I git there keep as still as a mouse. 
I know what ye want an' I've got it all made. 
So tuck up in bed, an' don't be afraid. 

"Ma Santa will take the trip with me this year: 
She never was willin' before — ain't it queer? 
She never would venture (?) ter ride in my sleigh, 
But soars in my aeroplane every day. 
12 



"She thinks it great sport ter drop from the sky 
Not bombs 'at kill folks, an' make children cry- 
But good things 'at fills 'em with laughter and cheer, 
She says she will go with me now every year." 

When he woke in the morning the boy rubbed his 

eyes. 
And looked for the letter — 'twas such a surprise! 
It couldn't be found, for, strange though it seem, 
The letter he got had come in a dream. 

THE FIRST SNOW 

Say, Bob, it's snowin'! 'iss 'tis too! 
I've seen a flake! All right fer you! 
I tried ter ketch it in my hand 
An' almost did. Say, ain't it grand? 

My, I'm so glad it's goin' ter snow! 
Won't we have lots of fun. Bob, though? 
Let's git our sleds down right away 
An' shine the runners. What d'ye say? 

There comes another flake Bob, — See! 
An' there's another! Two! yes three! 
Let's hurry fer I'll bet by night 
There'll be a foot er two — there might. 

We'll make a snow-man five feet tall, 
An' build a fort down by the wall. 
We'll stick a log in for a gun, 
Say Bob, won't that be dandy fun? 

Come now, Bob, ain't that 'iss too bad! 
The sun is shinin' ! Ise so mad ! 
I'm 'est a mind ter go an' c-r-y — 
There ain't a snow-flake in the sky! 
13 



AN ODE TO THE STRAWBERRY 

In the sweet days of June 
When fields are a' bloom, 
When the blue sky is soft, 
And all nature in tune: — 
When bare-footed boys 
Roam the meadows, so merr)' — 
I feast with delight 
On the luscious strawberry. 

In the visions that come 
From the long, long ago — 
In my dreams, just as real 
As my waking, I know, — 
With my basket in hand 
And a song gay and cheery, 
I search in the grass 
For the crimson strawberry. 

Down by the brook where 
The buttercups grow, — 
Hid 'neath their leaves 
Are ripe berries, I know. 
Close by that rock. 
Half concealing their lustre, 
There they still hide 
In magnificent cluster. 

Tho' childhood has gone 
With its romping and glee, 
Memory brings sweet refreshment to me. 
The fields are still green 
And the heart is still cheery. 
And I love as of yore 
The luscious strawberry. 
14 



So I sing of the berries 
That grew by the brook, — 
Of the rock-sheltered cluster 
In sequestered nook: — 
Of those fair days in June, 
When the fields were a' bloom, 
When the blue skies were soft. 
And all nature in tune. 

SOMETHING FOR CHILDREN TO DO 

Up on the hill-side bright daisies are blooming, 
Down in the meadow the sweet lilies grow. 
Daisies and lilies God's glory are telling, 
Is there not something for children to do ? 

Surely there must be in God's great big garden 
Some little corner that needs just their care. 
Some tiny vessel that small hands may carrj^ 
Some work the kind gardner wants children to share. 

Seeds must be planted in God's great big garden 
Love seeds, and faith seeds, seeds of hope too: 
The Master wants none in his great garden idle, 
And this work the tiniest children can do: — 

They can walk in the garden where toilers are busy, 
And smile a sweet smile, and sing a glad song: 
The work may seem hard, and the load may feel 

heavy 
But singing and smiles will make tired hearts strong. 

O yes, there is plenty of work in God's garden, 
And children are needed, and grown people too: 
There is plenty of room for the largest and smallest 
And a corner that's waiting for you — just for you. 
15 



ISE MOS' A MAN ALREADY 

Ise mos' a man already, so I be, 

An' I ain't afraid of nothin' — no sirree! 

Ise four to-day, 'ats almos' five. 

An' will be soon 'f I stays alive. 

I can go up stairs in the dark, 

An' I don't never stop to hark, an' — 

'Es I can'f I want to, so I can! 

Ise big too : mos' as big as pa : 

An' he's a' awful big man ! 

Four times bigger'n ma. 

My feets jest fits his new gum boots, 

An' I can lif his big ole gun what shoots, 

An' some day I'll kill a bear, 'less he skoots. 

I can fight too — 'es I can! 

An' 'at jest proves Ise mos' a man. 

Don't let no one call me "Kid", 

No I don't! Once a feller did but 

Won't no more, fer I jes' banged him on the head 

'Cause he dared up and call me "kid"! 

When I gets growed up I'll be a cop * 

'Es I will! An' wear brass buttons, an' 

Stop bad boys pesterin' girls 

An' chasin' 'em to pull their curls. 

Or p'raps I be a minister, or engineer, or 

Somefin else what's grand, or queer. 

Ise mos' a man already, so I be, 

An' I ain't afraid of nothin, no sirree! 



i6 



I can play base ball, too, so I can, 
An' run as fast as any man. 
Can't no pitcher strike me out 
Fer I jest knows what I'm about. 
An' when the ball comes whizzin' by 
I hit it way-up-in-the-sky. 
An' once I made a real "home run." 
O my! but that's the bestest fun! 

Some day I'll buy a big balloon 
An' sail away clear to the moon I 
I'll drive it straight up through the air 
An' make it go jes' anywhere — 
Fer Ise mos' a man already, so I be. 
An' I ain't afraid of nothin, no sirree! 



17 



HE SAYS IT'S SO 'N HE OUGHTER 
KNOW 

We've got a preacher down ter hum 
Who sure is mighty smart. 
He's got the others on the run 
With palpitatin' heart. 
He says it's so 'n 
He oughter know. 

You jist should hear that feller though 

When he gits up ter preach — 

He sends the shivers down yer spine — 

I tell ye he's a peach! 

He says it's so 'n 

He oughter know. 

There ain't so eloquent er man 

In all the kentry roun' : 

He don't go nowhere 'less he's called 

A "honer to our town". 

He says it's so 'n 

He oughter know. 

The city papers urge him so 

It hurts him ter refuse: — 

"Jist what he's said, or COIN' TER SAY- 

Makes the best kind of news". 

He says it's so 'n 

He oughter know. 

This preacher we've got down ter hum, 

I tell you he's the stuff! 

The folks what goes ter hear him preach 

Can't never git enough (?) 

He says it's so 'n 

He oughter know. 

la 



GOOD BY GOD— I'VE BOUGHT AN 
AUTO 

Good by God — I've bought an auto, 
And I've got to speed away. 
Oh, I know to-day is Sunday, 
But tomorrow will be MONDAY, 
And I'll have to work that day. 

Didn't have an automobile 
When I joined the church, you know: 
Good by God, you must excuse me. 
For I really have to go. 

You won't judge me harshly, will you. 
If I don't take time to pray? 
Next December I'll remember 
All about the "holy" day. 

Good by God — I've bought an auto, 
And I've really got to go: 
True it's Sunday, and I'm sorry, 
But I've got a "date," you know. 

"Be at church", you ask, "this evening?" 
Why, perhaps — I can't quite say: — 
For I'm going on a "joy ride" 
So, "Honk! Honk!" It's here. Good day! 



19 



QUIT YER KICKIN' 

You had better quit yer kickin', 
Fer it's jest as like as not — 
That air kick may land on you sir, 
In a mighty tender spot. 

O, I know why you're a kickin' — 

You don't quite enjoy the "dough": 

Yer don't like the TRUTH he's preachin' — 

Better own the "corn" right now. 

Course I know it's real surprisin' 
When a spade is called a "spade" — 
An' when sin is shown so deadly 
That ye holler fer "first aid." 

But ye'd better face the music — 

Look yer Lord straight in the eye: 

Then drop down quick on yer "prayer bones' 

An' prepare ter live, or die. 

All the rummies now are kickin', 
An' the gamblers kickin' too: 
An' the "highbrozvs" in the churches — 
They've all jined the "kickin' crew". 

Now see here — if you're a Christian, 
As ye say ye be — so proud. 
You won't travel long, I tell ye, 
In that pesky kickin' crowd. 



20 



Quit yer kickin' ! Go ter prayin' ! 
Help yer brother man ter stand. 
Ain't yer sorter 'shamed to own it 
That ye jined the "kickin' band"? 

Quit yer kickin' ! Quit yer knockin' ! 
Be a "Booster" right away, 
Fer before ye really know it 
You'll be goin' away— TER STAY! 

OUTSIDE OR IN 

"I'm jest as good outside as in: 
It ain't no use ter make a fuss: 
The church folks ain't no better'n me — 
In fact I calkerlate they're wuss. 

"There deakin Skinner (named jest right) 
He cheated me the other night: 
We traded bosses, don't yer see, 
An' that old rascal lied ter me. 

"The boss I got 's as blind 's a bat: 
Now nabor what d'ye think of that? 
He said 'One eye's as good as t'other'. 
The truth is he cant see from nuther. 

"There's sister Dobbins — don't ye know 
That female gabbles like a crow. 
She hain't got sense ter hold her gab: 
I wouldn't trust her more'n a crab." 

"It's cheaper, too, ter stay outside. 
An' ain't so humblin' ter yer pride. 
One cent a week squares my church bill; 
When I ain't there it's cheaper still. 
21 



" 'Pray?' No I don't: I ain't no saint, 
An' most that thinks they be — p'raps ain't. 
I'll take my chances any day 
With hypocrites that sing and pray. 

" "The Bible?' No, can't say I do. 
Believe it? Wall, — I — guess — I — do. 
My mother (I stood by an' cried) 
Gave me her book the day she died. 

"The judgment? Wall — I wish 'twant so, 
But that I'll have ter face, I know: 
An' when it comes without a doubt 
I'd ruther be inside than out. 



THE FAULT OF THE COMET 

" 'Tis the fault of the comet" ! They say everywhere. 
If the weather be cold or hot. 
But how do they know it? 
They surely can't show it, — 
Such slander is pure "Tommy rot". 

The earth was so dry — not a cloud in the sky: 

"The comet's to blame" they all said. 

Then the rain-clouds sailed over. 

And that "stella rover" 

Tipped them bottom side up on our head. 

I can not quite see what a comet can be, 
That possesses such marvellous power. 
It can melt Nova Scotia, 
And freeze Alabama 
And do it inside of an hour. 
22 



'Tis the latest sensation, this freak of creation, 

And our gratitude how can we show? 

It's the fault of the comet, 

And none dare deny it. 

When things go awry here below. 

If children are fretful, 

If bread will not rise, 

If clothes do not fit. 

If there's dust in our eyes. 

If fish will not bite. 

If living is high — 

It's the fault of the comet 

Up there in the sky. 

It's coming our way! so astronomers say. 

It reels oS the miles just a million a day. 

We are glad it is coming 

Our blessings upon it! 

For everything now can be laid to the comet. 

(Suggested by Halley's comet, April, 1910.) 



aa 



THE STANDPATTER 

"You may talk as you please about local option, 

How the 'devil is now on the run' — 

It don't a bit matter 

For I'm a standpatter 

And shall vote as I always have done. 

"My grand-dad and father all voted like me, 

We've fired from the same old gun : 

So hush up your clatter, 

For I'm a standpatter, 

And shall vote as I always have done. 

"This talk about rum, and the harm it has done 

May be true, and I reckon it's so: 

But I'm a standpatter, 

Tho' women may chatter, 

And shall vote just as I always do. 

" 'The saloon ought to go'? Undoubtedly so, 

It ain't needed for me nor my son: 

But I'm a standpatter. 

That's just the whole matter. 

And shall vote as I always have done. 

" "Taint just as I pray*! Is that what you say? 

We'll quit now just where we begun — 

For I'm a standpatter, 

And praying don't matter. 

So I'll vote as I always have done." 



24 



LA TRINIDAD 
{/4 Burlesque) 

'Twas Chris. Columbus, so they say, 
Who first did Ameri-cay (?) 
To tell the truth may make you sad. 
But all he found was Trinidad! 

Now Trinidad is not so big. 
But Chris, he didn't care a fig: 
He was so glad to see the land, 
And safe on terra firm stand. 

Old Christopher was feeling sad 
Because his crew was fighting mad: 
In fact it gave them frightful pain 
To be so far away from Spain. 

"Sail on"! cried Chris. — "just three days more! 
And then, if we don't reach the shore — 
We'll turn our gallant fleet around 
And scud right back to Spanish ground." 

So, on they sailed; and, e're the sun 
Had quite his three days' journey run, 
High on the deck — he was so glad, — 
Old Chris, cried out — "La Trinidad"! 



25 



But Trinidad was far to sea: 
Too far America to be : — 
And so Columbus sailed away 
But never found Ameri-cay (?) 

Our "pilgrim fathers" crossed the sea, 
In search of larger liberty: 
And I'll maintain, 'gainst pope, or Czar, 
That they first found Ameri-kar (?) 

No other claim can ever stand, 
For this is Freedom's native land: 
The truth is this, and I'm so glad — 
Columbus just found Trinidad. 

THE DOCTOR'S SAFE RULE 

Once a poor farmer, I know not his name, 
Had a fish-bone stuck fast in his throat. 
He tried to extract it, but effort was vain. 
Then fear the poor fellow's heart smote. 

He sent for the doctor, who came on a run, 
"He's choking to death"! they all said. 
The man in despair was clutching his hair, 
While the doctor stood scratching his head. 

"Go catch the old rooster"! he cried all at once — 
"Don't stand there and let the man die! 
I want a long feather! We'll soon find out whether 
'Twill do it. At least we can try." 



26 



They rushed to the barn. They caught the old cock. 
They pulled out a part of his tail. 
'Twas a queer thing to do, but the doctor he knew 
It had never been known ( ?) to fail. 

"Now" said the doctor, "we're going to begin": 
And he tickled the choking man under the chin. 
He laughed, and he sneezed, and out came the bone! 
It seems strange to tell it, but the deed had been 
done. 

"Will you tell me, good doctor" the happy man said, 
"How you happened to think of that cure? 
It's a wonderful thing! A most marvellous thing! 
And original, too, I am sure". 

The doctor looked wise, with a squint in his eyes, 
And he answered the man with a smile — 
I frankly will say that the bone meant to stay, 
And kill you too, after a while. 

"I've made it a rule, and I'm not quite a fool, 
For sometimes it works like a charm — 
In a critical case, when my wit's on the chase, 
To do what at least will not harm. 

So I scratched my old head and thought of the 

feather — 
I wanted to help if I could: 

It at least could not "HARM," so I felt no alarm! 
Though it failed to do one bit of good. 



37 



THE MAN BEHIND THE BAR 

You may laud the man "behind the gun" 
And give him praise and glory: — 
But I speak of the man behind the BAR 
And that is another story. 

The one may be fighting for honor, and truth, 
For freedom, and rights of man: 
But speak one single word of praise 
For the bar-tender if you can. 

Across the bar, to the man outside 
He passes the foaming bowl: — 
And never seems to care at all 
Tho' the drinker be selling his soul. 

The sound of the silver that falls in the till 
Is sweeter than angel's song: 
So he waits with a smile, other glasses to fill, 
And takes no account of the wrong. 

That man is a robber behind the bar, 

For he takes, and gives in return, — 

Not what will strengthen, and cheer, and help. 

But blister, and damn, and burn. 

He is taking the furniture out of the house, 
The shoes off the baby's feet: — 
The smile from the face of the suffering wife, 
From the table, the bread and the meat. 

You may laud the man "behind the gun". 
And give him high praise and glory: 
But I speak of the man behind the BAR, 
And that is a different story. 
28 



THE WORLD AND YOU 

This world cares but little for you! 
You may think me unkind, 
Perhaps losing my mind — 
But I tell you, my friend, it is true. 

It was Caesar who said 
In the years long gone by — 
"I can feel my proud head 
Knock the stars from the sky." 

But the stars that he fancied 
He hit with his head, 
Have still kept on shining 
The' Caesar is dead. 

You may preach like Apollo 
And the world loud applaud — 
But you'll soon be forgotten 
When under the sod. 

The trump of the host 
On the far battle-line. 
May thrill for a moment 
Like sparkle of wine. 

But when the hush falls 
On the red fields of war, 
The world soon forgets 
Both the hero, and scar. 



29 



The hand on the wheel 
Of the proud ship of state, 
Is replaced by another, 
His service tho' great: — 

And the proud ship sails on 
Never slacking her pace 
To mourn for the pilot, 
Who stepped from his place. 

The priest in his pulpit 
And the king on his throne, 
Are mourned for by few 
When their life-work is done. 

The maiden who weeps 
By the bier of her lover. 
Will soon dry her tears 
When the funeral's over. 

There are plenty of men 
Big enough for your place — 
Thare are runners galore 
That could set you a pace. 

You are not quite the "ONLY", 
Don't feel vexed, but it's true, 
For the world, after all. 
Cares but little for you. 



30 



THE WiORLD'S A'BLOOM 

The world's a'bloom where'er you look, 
On hill-side, or by running brook. 
The woods are flecked with bright-hued flowers, 
The dales are changed to floral bowers. 

The world's a'bloom: and, far a'field 
The winter's bands to beauty yield. 
'Tis Paradise at last "regained" 
With nature's prison-house unchained. 

The dog-wood deep in shady dells 
Seems robed in white for wedding bells: 
The cherry and the apple trees 
Are vibrant with the hum of bees. 

The world's a'bloom : and everyAvhere 
The flowers' sweet breath perfumes the air. 
All nature seems in perfect tune, 
For May has turned the world to bloom. 



31 



YESTERDAY 

My Yesterday I threw away, 
But did not know it till to-day. 
The day was gone before I thought. 
The fruitage of the day was naught. 
My Yesterday I threw away 
But did not know it till today. 

My Yesterday I lost! 
And it's gone forevermore. 
My Yesterday I lost! 
And it makes my heart so sore 
To think I lost my yesterday 
And ne'er can find it more. 

To-day will soon be added 
To the yesterdays long gone: 
And the story of its passing 
Fill my heart with pain, or song. 
Yes, to-day will soon be added 
To the yesterdays long gone. 



32 



BETTER QUIT YER CUSSIN' 

You had better quit yer cussin' 
Fer it's mighty mean an' low, 
When ye git a little vexed 
Ter let yer cussedness o'erflow. 

S'posin' ye did hit yer finger 
When ye meant ter strike the tack — 
Did a little ugly cussin' 
Help ter molify the whack? 

When yer mule conceived the notion 
That "G'long" ! was meant fer "Whoa" ! 
Did yer cussin' help ter start him? 
Answer straight jest "Yes" or "No". 

Jest because yer nabors' chickens 
Flew inside yer garden wall, 
Did yer cussin' help the matter? 
('Twouldn't do to print it all). 

No, there ain't no good in cussin': 
'Tain't a manly thing to do. 
Hold yer tongue, or else talk decent! 
That's the better way fer you. 



33 



TEN TIMES ONE ARE TEN 

"Ten times one" — I well remember 
When a youngster, fresh at school, 
How the teacher drilled, and drilled me 
In this elemental rule. 

First she made me count my fingers, 
Then she pointed to my toes: — 
"Ten times one are ten" — she echoed — 
"That much everybody knows". 

Soon I learned the lesson taught me 
In that rustic village school. 
For the apples, marbles, pennies 
Showed the meaning of the rule. 

"Ten times one are ten" — this message 
From the fleeting years I read: 
And the rule takes on new meaning; 
Once I gave it little heed. 

No, we can not be mistaken — 
Ten times one are surely ten: 
Though the arch that spans the chasm 
From the "now" back to the "then" — 

Seems so very short that, truly, 
Were it not for this old rule, 
I could almost think of going back 
To that dear boyhood school. 

What makes years speed by so swiftly? 
Why do days make months so fast? 
Can no power delay their fleeting? 
Make the passing life-joys last? 
34 



When the lips are tuned to laughter, 
When the heart is full of song— 
"Ten times one" years seem a moment, 
Twenty, FORTY quickly gone. 

"Ten times one" — it sounds so simple! 
But this rule learned long ago, 
Takes on new and deeper meaning 
, As I older, wiser grow. 

THE ARROW'S WOUND 

Shoot an arrow in the air, 
It will fall — who knoweth where? 
Fall where it may, on land, on sea. 
None know how deep the wound may be. 

A song, a deed, a whispered word, 
A prayer that only ONE e'er heard— 
May prove an arrow, swift and keen 
And reach the mark, it's flight unseen. 

A hand that clasps another's hand. 
May help some trembling soul to stand: 
A look of sympathy and cheer 
Dispel the gathering clouds of fear. 

Then let the arrows swiftly fly 

To wound with Love, the sad hearts nigh : 

Fall where they may, on land, on sea. 

The wounds though deep, will precious be. 



35 



OUR THREE MARTYRS 

LINCOLN 

Lincoln shot! No, No, 
It cannot be! What mortal hand 
Would dare be lifted 'gainst a man 
So true, so kind, so brave as he? 

Lincoln shot! God, what a deed! 
Who now can meet the nation's need? 
Will North and South again be foes? 
Perhaps! Perhaps! Who knows? Who knows? 

Lincoln shot! Just at the dawn 
Of freedom's glad, exultant morn. 
When black and white, when bond and free 
Were heirs alike to liberty. 

Lincoln shot! Does God still reign? 
Has Justice been dethroned, and slain? 
Has hellish hate usurped the throne? 
Has LOVE proved faithless to His own? 

'Twas not in vain — nay, not in vain: — 
Thy death means life — thy loss is gain. 
To deathless fame thy path is paved: 
The victory won ; thy country saved. 

Thus out of darkness breaks the light. 
Glad morning always follows night. 
With faith the hearts of patriots swell: — 
"God lives! God lives! and all is well". 

GARFIELD 
Again the nation bows its head 
And mourns a leader slain. 
Another martyr swells the list, 
O God! Again? Again? 
36 



With eager pace he turns his face 
Towards Williams' classic halls: 
Across that brow, so honored now, 
No fear-born shadow falls. 

'Shrined in the heart of the land he loves, 
Far better than his life — 
Proud of the flag, beneath whose folds 
Secure from hate and strife 

He stands — but hark! a pistol shot! 
Another! See, he falls! And lo, 
A crimson stain proclaims again 
A nation's deepest woe. 

'Twixt life and death, hope and despair 
He lingers, while on knees prayer-bent, 
A nation's plea is heavenward sent. 
That God the precious life would spare. 

Close by the sea, from day to day 
The life-tide slowly ebbed away. 
It came at last, what comes to all 
Death's reveille — the final call. 

"God lives! All's well upon the earth"! 
This nation which had holy birth 
Shall stand unshaken and secure. 
Though leaders fall, she shall endure. 

Sleep on, O hero! heaven-blest. 
Let naught disturb thy blood-bought rest. 
The impious hand that struck thee down 
Placed on thy brow a fadeless crown. 

37 



MC KINLEY 

The deed is done! The noble man — 
Think of it calmly, ye who can, 
With hand outstretched for friendly grasp 
Fell 'neath the hand he sought to clasp. 

From east to west a thrill of pain 
Shot through the nation's heart again: 
Another martyr! Can it be 
In this fair land of liberty! 

What sayest thou? O leader brave, 
With dim eyes gazing at thy grave — 
Speak e're thy journey full is run — 
"It is God's way. His will be done". 

And can'st thou say it from the heart — 
"His will be done"? If so, then 
Hero, martyr, in this dark hour 
Thine is a throne of endless power. 

Thy life prolonged, could not have been 
So fraught with good to struggling men. 
Thy country hears, and stands in awe, 
While nations wonder from afar. 

Thrice the assassin's cruel hand 
Hath draped in black our heaven-blest land. 
But freedom's cause can ne'er be slain, 
And Truth, tho' crushed, shall rise again. 

"God's will be done" ! So let us pray, 
Tho' God's way may not seem our way: — 
The end shall prove His way was right 
That led thro' darkness, into light. 
38 



I'D LIKE TO BE OLD SANTA CLAUS 

I'd like to be old Santa Claus, 

And drive a reindeer sleigh — 

I'd load it down with wondrous things 

And swiftly drive away. 

Not sleds and trumpets, dolls and drums, 
Aeroplanes, and ships — 
But JOY tied up in bundles big, 
And blessings from Love's lips, — 

I'd carry peace o'er all the earth, 
And hush the din of war: 
I'd chime the Christmas bells so loud 
That men should hear afar, 

I'd love to be old Santa Claus 
And fill the earth with cheer — 
To scatter sunshine o'er the world 
For just one happy year. 

I'd wreath sad faces with a smile, 
And cheer each lonely heart, — 
I'd lift the fallen up again, 
And take the weak one's part. 

I'd banish clouds that veil the hills. 
And show the brightening way: 
I'd whisper to each troubled soul 
"Look up! 'Tis breaking day!" 

Perhaps I can be Santa Claus! 
I really think I'll try: 
And, if I have a merry time 
I'll tell you next year — why. 
39 



WHY HE CAME 

Back of what the angels sang 

Lies a deeper meaning. 

Joy-bells ne'er so sweetly rang 

As on Christmas morning. 

"God is love"! That's what it meant: 

'Twas for this the "host" was sent — 

Hushed the voice of earth's lament 

On that Christmas morning. 

Back of everj^ flower that blooms, 
Lies a seed from which it comes. 
Back of every stream that flows — 
Back of every blushing rose, 
Lies the primal cause — God's power 
Waiting but it's natal hour. 
What a flood of sweet content 
Swept o'er heaven's battlement 
On that Christmas morning! 

Earth was old in sin and pain, 
When the blessed Christ-child came 
On that Christmas morning. 
"Peace" O, hear the angels sing it! 
Peal it out, ye joy-bells, ring it! 
For the "BABY" came to bring it 
On that Christmas morning. 

And He came because God loved me: 
Bent with tenderness above me: 
Sent His HEART to earth to save me 
On that Christmas morning. 



40 



O STAR, SHINE THOU ON ME 

O Star, shine thou on me! 
Thy glory in full splendor let me see. 
Lead me step by step along life's way 
Till awed, enraptured I shall stand 
Before the King, some day — some day. 

O Star, shine thou on me! 

Across life's desert day by day, 

As, wearily I take my way — 

Make plain the path that I should tread 

And I will follow on— STAR LED! 

O Star, shine thou on me! 

Let nothing tempt my steadfast gaze. 

Not sinful lust, nor flower-strewn ways 

My soul, illumined by thy light 

Shall feel no fear, shall know no night. 

Star, shine thou on me! 

1 have not much to oflfer, but I bring 
All of my treasures to my King, 

My life, my love, my little store 
Shall all be His, forever more. 

Star, shine thou on me! 
Across life's desert, o'er the hill 

1 travel on, led by thee still. 
The journey's end I cannot see, 
But all is well when led by thee. 



41 



A SOLILOQUY 

"Three score years and" — let me see, 
Am I that old? How can I be? 
Life's normal bound, "three score and ten" 
Is not far off: and then — what then? 

Three score years and — bide a wee — 
That somehow don't seem right to me. 
I always thought "three score and ten" 
Was far away: and then — ^what then? 

"Three score years and" — one by one, 
The years have gone — forever gone: 
No time to lose for "three score and ten" 
Is near at hand: and then — what then? 

"Three score years and" — let me see — 
Am I that old? How can it be? 
Life's normal rule, "three score ten" 
Brings heaven near: and then — O THEN! 



42 



ONE TICK AT A TIME 

Just one tick at a time, and 

The clock marked off the hours — 

And the hours made days 

And the days made weeks, 

And the weeks made months, and years. 

Just one tick at a time, and 

The baby ceased to creep. 

He stood, he walked, he ran, he climbed, 

His life with other lives entwined, 

And away he went with a leap. 

Just one tick at a time, and 

The boy to manhood grew — 

And a maiden fair was waiting there. 

With a face as bright as the stars at night, 

Or a drop of sun-lit dew. 

Just one tick at a time, and 
Life flies on apace. 
And the years sweep by, 
And the end draws nigh — 
The end of a long life's race. 



43 



THE LOVE TIE 

There is a tie, a holy tie 
That binds our hearts in one. 
A tie that sweeter, stronger grows 
Each setting of the sun. 

And when the calm of twilight hour 
Has hushed the din of day. 
When toil, and care that caused unrest 
Have passed at length away: — 

Tis then when life has quiet grown, 
And stars bestud the sky. 
Love comes still closer to its own, 
A captive to that tie. 

"Blest be the tie", we well may sing. 
That binds our hearts in love. 
It makes of earth a Paradise, 
Foretaste of heaven above. 

A common hope, a common love, 
A common trust, and joy — 
A common faith in God above 
Which nothing can destroy. 

"Blest be the tie"! Ah, sacred tie 
That binds our hearts as one: 
And never shall that tie be loosed 
Till traveling days are done. 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD 

Yes sir, — I was bom right here 
Jest seventy years ago: 
An' when I speak of farmin' life 
I rather guess I know. 

My father squatted on this spot 
Way back in '41 : 
An' when he died he left by will 
"The homestead to my son". 

There ain't a spot on this old farm 
But what is sacred ground: 
An' often when I'm all alone 
I seem ter hear the sound 

Of father's voice across the field, 
An' mother's happy song, 
An' brothers shouting at their play 
Tho' hushed in death — so long. 

You see that orchard nigh the barn? 
My father set it there — 
An' every tree, sir, every one 
He planted with a prayer. 

My father was a Christian, sir, 
An' said that "God istjod"! 
An' jest the same as when "He split 
The Red Sea with a rod". 

Yes sir, this farm's the place fer me! 
I reckon till I die 

I'll stay right here, an' plow, and reap 
Till summoned home on high. 
45 



An' 1 jest hope — can*t help it sir, 
That in the land above, 
There'll be at least a garden spot 
Fer me to tend, and love. 

When seed is sproutin' in the spring. 
An' buds is burstin' on the tree. 
It seems that God is mighty near 
An' heaven not fur away from me. 

There ain't no place in this wide world 
So dear as this old spot — 
An' here I'll toil, an' here I'll wait 
Contented with my lot. 

You can't wonder when you think what 
This old homestead means to me — 
That, next ter heaven, this is where 
I'd love ter spend eternity. 



46 



JUST A WORD 

Just a word of greeting 

As the days are passing by. 

Just a loving hand-clasp 

With the friend that's standing nigh. 

Just some loving service 

That will lift the heavy load, 

Just an arm to lean on 

As we tread life's weary road. 

Just a smile to brighten 

"The corner where you are". 

Just a word of warning 

To the soul that's straying far. 

Just a song to gladden 

Some fainting, careworn heart — 

Just a word, a smile, a song 

And then dear friend, we part. — 

And we step across the threshold 
To the paths as yet untrod, 
To the days and years unfolding, 
And we leave them all with God. 



47 



WHEN MOTHER WENT AWAY 

I never can forget the day 
When my dear mother "went away". 
The world seems strange since she has gone 
At sunset hour, or in the morn. 

In mother's arms, when but a child, 
I saw love shine in eyes so mild: 
At mother's knee I learned to pray: 
She led me to the narrow way. 

'Twas mother's arms that held me tight 
When I was frightened in the night: 
She came in answer to my cry, 
My fears to hush, my tears to dry. 

My every pain my mother knew, 
And suffered just as mothers do. 
When others frowned, my mother smiled, 
She was my mother — I her child. 

When years had passed, and manhood came, 
My mother loved me just the same. 
To her I still was but a boy — 
My grief her grief, my joy her joy. 

The world is changed with mother gone: — 
The fields, the flowers, the night, the morn. 
My heart is sad with her away, 
But we shall meet again some day. 



48 



OUR GOLDEN WEDDING 

Wed FIFTY years! Can it be true 
That we have lived so long together? 
Full half a hundred years, my dear, 
In spite of clouds, and stormy weather. 

'Tor better; or worse: for life or death"— 
Thus ran the vow made long ago: 
The promise made with bated breath 
Has been well kept— God meant it so. 

'Tor better", Ah yes, not "for worse" 
Has been the life-long golden story. 
And now, unwearied in its course 
Our life is tinged with hill-top glory. 

Thus hand in hand, and side by side, 
With hearts still young, with love still true. 
We stand as lover and as bride 
To plight our troth, our vow renew. 

Our "golden wedding"! Yes 'tis true 
When love keeps sweet, and ever new. 
Tho' fifty years have swiftly gone. 
The altar fires still brightly bum. 

Long have we lived to love on earth. 
Our love has had a constant birth. 
And, when at last comes setting sun, 
We'll find in heaven love just begun. 



49 



THE WORLD AGAIN AT WAR 

The world again at war ! The "dove of peace" 

That seemed to find safe nesting 

'Neath monarch's throne 

Is driven far afield: and now, 

Alarmed by booming cannon, bursting shell, 

Can scarce find resting place — for 

"War is hell"! 

Disciples (?) of the Prince of Peace 

Have unsheathed sword, each 'gainst the other. 

Forgotten seems God's fatherhood, 

That makes each man his neighbor's brother. 

The pride of kings, the lust of glory, 

Are writing now a CRIMSON story. 

Barbaric hate crowns regal brow, 

For Christian strikes at Christian — now! 

From palace, cottage, factory, store, 
Millions of men, red-handed, pour. 
O'er corn-clad fields rush plunging steeds, 
Treading in dust the bread man needs. 
From cloud-veiled heights the death-bombs fall, 
And "war is hell", to one, to all. 

O Prince of Peace! Where art thou now? 
And dost thou hear when monarchs bow 
And plead with thee to make wrong right? 
To change earth's daylight into night? 
God, stay the mighty monarch's hand! 
God, keep from war our heaven-blest land! 
God, haste the day when war shall cease, 
And earth enjoy j)erpetual peace, 

50 



THOU ART NOT FORGOT 

O man of Gad, thou art not forgot! 

No marble pillar marks the spot 

Where dust returned to dust — 

But in man's heart thou hast a place 

Which passing years cannot efFace — 

Thou art not forgot! Thou art not forgot! 

The spruce that grows above thy grave 
Stands firm, like thee, who bravely stood 
For human freedom, human good. 
Who placed it there none lives to tell, 
But God, who loved his servant well 
Has not forgot! Has not forgot! 

Where freedom lifts her noble head, 
Where men for liberty have bled 
Thou livest yet. 

The Bible, freed from papal chains 
Thy lasting monument remains. 
None can forget! None can forget! 

O man of God, thou art not forgot. 

The feet of thousands to this spot 

By love are yearly led. 

When marble crumbles into dust. 

Thy name will live, for God is just. 

Thou art not forgot! Thou art not forgot. 

(These lines were written beside the grave of 
John Calvin, in Geneva, Switzerland, August 5th, 
1900.) 



51 



THE PASSING OF PRESIDENT 
ROOSEVELT 

Out of the "rank and file" he came, 
Back to the "rank and file" he goes. 

Just for a day he sat on a throne 

Mightier than ever crowned monarch has known. 

Just for a day he stood like a king, 

Baring his breast to envy's mad fling. 

Down from that throne he steps, still a MAN, 

Bound by no master, owned by no clan. 

Proud in the knowledge of manhood unchained: 
Proud that the flag floats with glory unstained : 
Proud that Columbia holds out her hand 
Welcoming patriots from every land: — 
Proud that the rulers, and nations of earth 
Honor the country where freedom found birth. 

Out of the "lank and file" he came. 
Back, to the "rank and file" he goes. 

Honored by men who once sneered in his face: 
Honored by men who once sought his disgrace. 
Never a man more determined than he — 
True to conviction, as true men must be: 
Loved by his friends, and honored by foes, 
Back to the "rank and file" he goes. 



5a 



THE SCHOOL BELLS ARE RINGING 

The school bells are ringing, and millions of youth 
Are turning glad faces toward fountains of truth. 
No dread of the future, no fear of defeat. 
As they march tramp ! tramp ! tramp ! thro' the lane, 
up the street. 

The school bells are ringing, and hark to the sound — 
As the millions respond with a shout, and a bound. 
The boys full of laughter, the girls full of glee. 
As happy and gladsome as childhood can be. 

The wealth of our nation, well nigh beyond measure, 
Is naught when compared with this priceless youth- 
treasure 
In the hand of the child lies the fate of our nation, 
No matter how high, or how lowly the station. 

The school is the quarry, where, day after day, 
Foundations are fashioned, dross chiseled away. 
'Neath the folds of "Old Glory" which flutters 

above, 
The patriot grows both in ardor, and love. 

When they built the first school house our fore- 
fathers knew. 

What we, their blest children have learned to be 
true — 

That the church, and the school, standing close hand 
in hand 

Are the hope of the nation, the defense of the land. 

Yes, the school bells are ringing — ^we welcome their 

call. 
From the "little red school house", and statlier hall: 
While we listen with joy to the tramping of feet 
Of the millions preparing life's duties to meet. 
53 



The parent, the teacher, the pupil — these three — 
Form a trinity vital to our liberty. 
And the objects for which they unitedly stand are — 
Our God, and our home, and our dear native land. 

THELMA 

{Dedicated to the Belgian relief ship which sailed 
from Philadelphia, Nov. I2th 19 14.) 

Sail on, O ship, across the sea, 
Where starving millions wait for thee: 
There wailing children, hungry, cold. 
Heart-broken mothers, young and old, 
Homeless and friendless, outcasts all — 
Stagger along, or palsied fall. 
Hark to their cry! They call for thee! 
Sail on, O ship, across the sea! 

The monarch's heel has crushed them down, 
To add more lustre to his crown. 
Temples stand ruined by shot and shell — 
Dead men lie rotting where they fell — 
Homes gone forever — streams running red — 
From broken hearts all hope has fled — 
Hark to their cry! They call for thee! 
Sail on! sail on! across the sea! 

A HAND almighty on thy wheel — 
The sea made smooth beneath thy keel — 
The stars kept bright to show the way — 
No hindering winds by night or day — 
Millions of knees are bent in prayer 
That God may grant His special care. 
Yet still they cry — they wait for thee — 
Sail on, O ship, across the seal 



WHY EVER GROW OLD 

Why ever grow old while the sun is still shining, 
While arms of affection around you are twining? 
Why ever grow old while little feet patter, 
And the hall-way resounds with innocent clatter? 

Why ever grow old while the birds keep on singing. 
And the daisies so fair in the meadows are spring- 
ing— 
While the crocus looks up with a smile on its face, 
And the lily still greets you with infinite grace? 

Why ever grow old while the skies overhead 

Are studded with stars when the daylight has fled — 

When the moon mounts her throne, radiant queen of 

the night, 
And the sun at his rising turns darkness to light? 

Why ever grow old while there's work to be done. 
High hills to be climbed, and a crown to be won? 
If your heart but keeps right, and your faith but 

keeps strong. 
You will never grow old, though the years may 

grow long. 

Perpetual spring! What a glorious truth! 

Old age but the steady unfolding of youth! 

If your heart but keeps pure, and your faith but 

keeps strong — 
You can never grow old, though the years may 

grow long. 



55 



OLD GLORY 

No flag ever waved like the "Red, White and Blue" ! 
You can find no flag like it, tho' you seek the world 

through. 
'Tis the emblem of freedom, and proudly it waves 
Over Liberty's ramparts, over heroes' green graves. 

On red fields of battle "Old Glory" has fluttered, 
Where cannon has thundered, and rifles have sput- 
tered. 
Wherever you find it, on land or on sea, 
It is ever the symbol of sweet liberty. 

Our banner is flying in every breeze. 
On proud ships of steel it sails over all seas. 
Wherever we greet it our heart-beat is true. 
For no flag ever waved like the "Red, White and 
Blue! 

The red stripes remind us of hero-blood shed: 
The blue points to heaven, star-studded o'er head. 
The white speaks of virtue, of purity too, — 
Ah, no flag ever waved like the Red, White and 
Blue! 

To the wronged and oppressed of every nation. 
Our flag waves a welcome, regardless of station: 
And 'neath its fair folds none need more be afraid, 
For the hand of the tyrant forever is stayed. 

No flag ever waved like the Red, White and Blue! 
You can find no flag like it tho' you search the 

world through: 
Sweet emblem of freedom, how proudly it waves, 
Over Liberty's altars, over heroes' green graves. 
56 



EASTER MORNING 

Again 'tis Easter morning. 

The long, dark night has passed. 

The query of the ages 

Of prophets, martyrs, sages — 

The question asked with bated breath 

Is answered — 
LIFE ENDS NOT IN DEATH! 

Again 'tis Easter morning: 
And old and young with radiant face 
Look toward the tomb: for 
Faith can see 'tis angel-thronged, 
Not filled with gloom. 

The query of the ages. 

Of prophets, martyrs, sages. 

No more is raised with bated breath, 

For life, we know, 

ENDS NOT IN DEATH. 



57 



IN HIM ABIDING 

"Abide in me"! Ah soul, how sweet, 
To dwell in that divine retreat. 
To live safe-sheltered in His breast — 
To make His heart your place of rest. 

"Abide in me"! How sadly true, 
I nothing am, can nothing do. 
The strength to toil, the grace to be. 
Are all derived, dear Lord, from thee. 

"Abide in me"! Then fruit will grow. 
Power from the VINE go surging 
Thro' the branches, till they bear 
Rich fruit because God's life is there. 

"Abide in me"! Unanswered prayer 
Ne'er rose from one abiding there. 
"Ask what ye will, it shall be done". 
It must, since Christ and you are one. 

"Abide in me"! Lord can it be 
That I may be enshrined in Thee? 
Thy heart my hiding place, my rest, 
Where I may dwell forever blest? 

"Abide in me"! O Holy VINE! 
Let me, my life, derive from thine. 
This then my prayer shall ever be — 
"Lord help me to abide in Thee". 



58 



STUNG 

pere once was a poor little doggie, 
And he thought he would have some fun-- 

00 he pawed in jest 
A bumblebees' nest — 

And that poor little doggie got stung. 

The moral is plain and I'll tell it again. 

1 no It s been so often sung— 
Take heed what you do 

Or probably you 

Will find yourself suddenly STUNG. 



39 



BROKEN HARP STRINGS 

One day a harpist, half inspired, 
Struck from his trembling lyre 
A chord of purer, sweeter tone 
Than he ever found before. 
It thrilled his soul. 
It warmed his heart. 
It made the tears of rapture start, 
It seemed of life the grander part — 
And so he struck it, o'er and o'er. 

His harp was like a living thing. 

It sang like birds and brooks in spring. 

It brought heaven down almost in reach. 

It told of joys past power of speech: — 

Of love, and home — 

Of peace and rest: 

And then it's work forever done 

The harp strings broke: it's song was sung. 

The harpist gazed in mute despair 
Upon his harp, so sweet, so fair — 
Then laid it down and bowed in prayer. 
But hark! An echo soft and low 
Swept through his soul, as breezes blow 
O'er scented gardens: and then 
Lifting his head he smiled again: — 

For now he knew those broken strings 
Had given birth to living things. 
That chord sublime had floated far 
To realms where Angel Harpers are. 
Tho' lost on earth, to it 'twas given 
To swell the melody of heaven. 
60 



MY BEAUTIFUL BABY BOY 

Come close to my heart 
My beautiful boy — 
For I am your mother 
And you are my joy. 
Here close to my breast, 
Just nestle and rest — 
My beautiful baby boy! 

Your eyes are so blue 

My beautiful boy! 

Love shines through those windows 

Undimmed with alloy. 

What rapture is mine 

As I gaze into thine — 

My beautiful baby boy! 

Your cheeks are so soft 
My beautiful boy! 
They feel just like velvet 
My beautiful boy: — 
And when you are sleeping 
God's angels are keeping 
My beautiful baby boy. 

I'm so glad you came 
My beautiful boy! 
For I am your mother, 
And you are my joy. 
So, close to my breast 
Just cuddle and rest, 
My beautiful baby boy. 



6i 



SLEEPING WITH THE ROSES 

"Sister's sleeping with the roses"! 
Lisped a little child one day, 
As she gazed into the casket 
Where her "angel" sister lay. 

Eyes were closed, and hands were folded, 
And the little prattler said — 
"Sister's sleeping with the roses. 
See the roses in her bed!" 

"Sister's sleeping with the roses"! 
O, how sweet to think it so. 
Dead? Ah no, but sweetly sleeping, 
Undisturbed by pain, or woe. 

Tear-dimmed eyes with faith-light brightened 
When our little darling said — 
"Sister's sleeping with the roses, 
See the roses in her bed!" 



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MY BABY 

Yesterday baby came; 
Dear little baby! 

Out of the "Somewhere" 
Into the "Here." 
Pure as a dew-drop, 
Sweet as a lily, 
Close in my bosom lay 
My baby dear. 

Yesterday baby smiled; 
Dear, dimpled baby! 
Eyes filled with wonderment. 
Face wreathed in sweet content, 
Smile that the angels sent — 
My precious baby! 

Yesterday baby died; 
My only baby! 
Softly the angels came. 
Tenderly breathed her name, 
Bore back to heaven again 
My darling baby. 



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LIMITLESS AMBITION 

Down in the sea in a 
Submarine boat — 
Up in the sky in a 
Ship that will float: — 
Up to the Pole where the 
Grizzly bears dwell, 
Down to the mouth of the 
Nethermost hell. 

Once there were limits to 
Human ambition: 
Now every boundary is 
Held in derision. 
You may fly without wing, 
You may swim without fin: 
Where achievement once halted, 
We now just begin. 

THE GLAD GAME 

Who will play the "glad game"? 

"I", said the brook as it hurried away — 
'Til play the 'glad game', for I'm always at 

play. 
I splash on the rocks, and I smile at the sun: — 
I'll play the 'glad game' for I think it great 

fun. 
I'll play the 'glad game' ". 

Who will play the "glad game"? 

"I", said the robin in the top of the tree — 
"For I am as happy as happy can be. 
It sometimes is cold and it sometimes is wet. 
But I've found it far better to sing than to fret. 
I'll play the 'glad game' ". 
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Who will play the "glad game"? 

"I", said the boy as he hobbled about, 

"I can walk on my crutches, can laugh, and can 

shout. 
There's many a boy lying flat in his bed, 
Who can't walk a step, nor hold up his head. 
I'll play the 'glad game' ". 

Who will play the "glad game"? 

"I", said the farmer, with hands on his plow — 
"I'll play the 'glad game' and play it right now. 
The furrow and harvest are not far apart — 
I'll play the 'glad game' with all my heart. 
I'll play the 'glad game' ". 

Who will play the "glad game"? 

"I", said the mother, with babe on her arm — 
"I'll play the 'glad game' it works like a charm. 
When weary with watching, or burdened with 

care, 
I'll play the 'glad game'; it goes with a prayer. 
I'll play the 'glad game' ". 

Then play the "glad game" wherever you be. 

High up on the mountain, afloat on the sea. 
Tho' burdens seem heavy, and life become tame. 
The heart will grow light if you play the "glad 
game". 



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THE ROBIN THAT SANG IN THE SNOW 

He thought it was spring, the dear little thing, 
And flew from the South-land so fair: 
But when the snow fell you never could tell 
That his heart knew a fear or a care. 

He sang in the storm the merriest song. 
As happy as happy could be: 
It seemed that he said, with a tilt of his head, 
"Storm is better than sunshine for me". 

I heard in the storm that jubilant song, 

And I learned a sweet lesson that day: — 

Just sing with your might when the skies are not 

bright, 
For the storm-clouds will soon pass away. 

The snow ceased to fall — sun shone over all, 
And the cherries grew ripe on the tree. 
But the song of the bird in the storm that I heard 
Will ne'er be forgotten by me. 



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